Parisharmonia
by LavenderIceCream
Summary: Music school AU! It's been a week, and Marinette is already expelled? She was just saving Paris from Akuma, but her music theory grades have dropped too far. Now, the only way to stay is to win the annual Spring Concours! But can the flutist rise to the top five in her school? And how can she manage her music life, her Ladybug life, and now her love life? (Dropped; I'm sorry.)
1. Chapter 1

Warning: pretty music heavy at some parts. I'll make sure that any terms are clearly defined though, if I use them. Also, listen to some of these pieces! They're some of my favorite pieces of music. Also classical music doesn't restrict to just the classical period of music (Beethoven, Mozart, etc.) so I'll be using a lot of pieces from non-classical periods as well. Thank you for reading!

* * *

 _Sometimes if you're burned for long enough, strongly enough, the pain disappears._

 _She hums something, it's so faint. "No, don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me, ma chere, don't leave me, I-I-"_

 _Her eyes, more tender than a bruise, smile._

 _The humming stops._

 _This is when I scream._

o0o0o0o0o0o

"Ms. Dupain-Cheng, you will be expelled by the end of the year."

"Wha- But Ms. Mendeleiev, I just- it's the first week of school!" Marinette cried.

"And how disappointing for there to be such an uninspired student from the first week of school!" Ms. Mendeleiev snapped. Marinette flinched. The music theory teacher brushed away a fuchsia strand of hair

"I am in complete disbelief, Ms. Dupain-Cheng, at how many of the five school days you have missed already. Absolutely ludicrous." Marinette felt herself shrinking. "Are you taking the classes here at the Paris Philharmonic Academy as a joke, mademoiselle? Because you certainly seem to be, and I would be glad to see you gone. Truly, I have not a clue how you passed the auditions." Ms. Mendeleiev scrutinized Marinette, as though wondering how often she had been used as the minimum standard.

"W-w-what do I do for the rest of the year then?" _How am I expelled already? Is this real? What… I was out defeating Akuma!_ Tears were already beginning to burn the rims of her eyes.

"Nothing." Ms. Mendeleiev flicked her hand. "I have no time for slackers. Come to class if you want, whenever it pleases _you_ , Ms. Dupain-Cheng. You are dismissed." She turned back to her desk and began shuffling through papers.

Numb, Marinette floated out of Ms. Mendeleiev's office. The bulletin board outside was already crammed with flyers advertising private lessons in the morning, master classes in the afternoon, and of course, concerts from early twilight to dead midnight. Marinette placed her fingers on the smooth papers, tracing the words, "proudly sponsored by the Paris Philharmonic Academy".

She couldn't help it, the tears began to overflow, and Marinette began to walk faster and faster, until she was sprinting down the hallway. "I wanted to do so much-! I worked so hard to get here, I practiced for so long, I even asked Dad and Mom for a tutor and now-! Just because, just because I'm-" Her words broke off. _Why did I have to be Ladybug? Why do I have to give up my dreams like this?_

Marinette bolted into the nearest practice room, eyes blind with tears, throat ablaze with bitterness. She finally crumpled to the ground, and sobbed.

Tikki peered out of the purse, her eyes flooding with guilt. "I… I'm sorry Marinette…" She flew out and huddled beside Marinette's buried head. "I'm really sorry," she repeated sadly.

Marinette nodded wordlessly, but she didn't raise her head. She hugged her knees tightly.

 _I want to go home… Home..._

 _I can even smell Dad's oven-baked, golden croissants and hear Mom's old recording of Debussy… Wait._

 _I do hear it. I hear it!_

Marinette's head shot up. Tikki jolted, eyes wide. "Tikki, do you hear it too?" Marinette whispered. She strained her ears. Faintly, in the unlit practice room, velvety piano notes waltzed tantalizingly in the air. Each note, perfectly rounded like a jaybird's egg. Each rest, the slow breath of a sleeper.

"Oh… the first Arabesque," Marinette breathed. "It's beautiful…" The gentle runs held her heart so carefully, so softly, so hopefully, like the down feathers of a grey dove of dawn, that Marinette nearly burst into tears again.

Tikki watched Marinette's eyes glaze over and the tension in her shoulders drain away.

"Tikki, I don't want to quit music," she murmured. "I… it's so… it's just, music."

"Yes," Tikki agreed.

"I don't want to leave…" The last silver strands vanished into the air. Marinette sighed, before she shook her head roughly. "...I'm going to ask Ms. Mendeleiev again. There has to be something I can do. Right, Tikki?" Eyes bright, she turned towards the sprite with a brave smile.

Tikki beamed back. "Yes! We can do this, Marinette!" Her heart ached at Marinette's shaking hands and sore red eyes and quavering voice. _But if Marinette is going to stand up, then I will support her._

"Let's go-! huh?" Marinette blinked in surprise as Tikki shot into her purse. Tikki gave an urgent look before someone knocked on the door.

 _Eep!_ Marinette leapt to her feet and grabbed the door handle. She swung it open. "I-I-I'm sorry so, I mean, so sorry, I, feel free practice room use, I mean use room the practice, er-"

"Uhm…"

Marinette squinted out of her screwed shut eyes at last.

A plain handkerchief lightly dabbled over them.

"Close your eyes." Marinette obliged, if in utter confusion.

"... There." The cloth dropped away.

Marinette opened her eyes once again, this time more cautiously.

He scratched the back of his head, eyes bashful. "I, well, heard some crying and I was worried… " He turned towards her, and their eyes met.

The kind sunshine in the boy's eyes melted Marinette like butter.

She mumbled something that might have been words, and she shuffled her feet. _Wordswordswordswords, aaaaaah, what do I say, what am I saying-_

He shifted back and forth, his face blooming posy red. "Well, since you seem alright, I'll just get going." He took a step away.

 _Wait!_ Marinette grabbed his hand. "N-name!" she blurted. _Wow, nice going Marinette, aiming for those first grade phrases._

"A-Adrien," he said. "And you?"

"M-M-M-Ma… Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng," she stuttered back.

He smiled. "Nice to meet you Marinette. See you sometime soon?" His hand slipped away, and he waved as he trotted down the hallway.

"Yes," Marinette said dazedly. "Bye…" Her hand waved limply.

 _Adrien…_

* * *

Pieces used: "Arabesque number 1" by Claude Debussy


	2. Chapter 2

"My lady," he murmured. "Aren't you a little too oblivious?" He leaned forward and gently held her chin.

"N-n-no, that-" she began but her words died away as he knocked his forehead to hers.

"Rrreally?" he purred teasingly, gazing into her eyes longingly.

She shivered. Her cheeks became ruddier than wine. He pricked his ears. _Ah…_ Her breaths were sharp and irregular and mechanical, as though she was trying to control it, to remember how to breath. "S-s-stop teasing me, Chat Noir!" she stammered.

"Only when you do," he murmured. _I can't… not anymore_. He closed in-

"-en. _Adrien_."

Adrien jolted before nearly smacking into a wall.

"Plagg, tell me these things just a bit earlier," he said crossly.

Plagg gave him a dirty look. "But who could ever pull Adrien Agreste from his daydreams about Ladybug."

"I, I was not-" he began hotly.

"Oh my, it's dear Adrien!" Chloe bowled into him. Adrien internally groaned as she slapped kisses onto his cheeks.

He was also less than pleased by Plagg's smirk.

"Aha, Adrien, honey, I _knew_ it was only fate and destiny that could've brought us together! Into the same music school! Ohohohoho," she tittered, fanning herself.

"Uh, yeah-"

"And all the same classes! And orchestra! And even-" She leaned in close and Adrien nearly choked on the "Aromatic Elixir" perfume. _It's the exact opposite of its name_ , he thought faintly. Chloe's mouth flapped open and shut rapidly but her words were thin air. _I used to think all girls smelled nice… Ladybug smells so nice…. Just a faint, coy, sweet from sweat….Ladybug…_

 _My Lady._

"-duet together and it will be P-E-R-F-E-C-T. Anyway, gotta go lunch! Toodle-doo, Adrien dear!" She grated five more kisses on each cheek before flying off, Sabrina trailed after her.

Adrien blinked before he sighed. "Why is it never _her_ ," he muttered. Adrien shook his head as he walked down the hallway. His eyes wandered to the long, full windows to the side. Someone was mowing the inner gardens, and the sharp acridity of cut grass filled Adrien's nose. A bird flitted atop the fountain in the center of the garden, and floods of tulips surrounded the structure, like a shower of red, yellow, and white. His eyes searched the plaza and then beyond its brick sidewalks, and discovered a tranquil pond beneath a weeping willow. And beyond that, curled fences.

"Because you've both got masks on?"

The blonde boy rolled his eyes. "That wasn't even a clever remark, Plagg." Adrien sighed again before turning towards the windows. "I hope I can play my clarinet out here one day. Maybe in front of the fountain."

"Your clarinet?" Plagg pulled a whisker. "Not your beautiful, ebony piano out in the spacious concert hall?"

Adrien shrugged, conscience of the weight in his backpack. "Can _you_ bring the piano out here? And anyway, we're at the hall." His feet came to a halt before the heavyweight doors. "Backstage" was scribbled onto a paper and stuck to them.

"Why are we going through the back anyway?" Plagg grumbled.

"I mean, that's just how the school's connected to the concert hall. You can't put the school right by the lobby of a public institution."

"Yeezus Adrien, you are the single human being I know who would use 'public institution' in a normal sentence."

"Hush," Adrien whispered as he pushed open the doors. They shrieked, and he jumped. The doors slammed shut.

Plagg tumbled in the air, roaring with laughter. Adrien glared at the spirit before shoving open the doors once again and slipping through.

Bare bulbs glimmered among noir walls, dangling faint rims of light. Cables and wires of all kinds snaked around Adrien like a sort of jungle, eventually connected to twin monitors. They appeared to be turned off. He squinted for a second before spotting the doors to the main stage. _This is where the orchestra's supposed to meet… right?_

He weaved his way through the wires before standing in front of the doors. More wary this time, he placed his hand on the knob and turned. The doors swung open silently, and Adrien's mouth dropped.

It was as though he had stepped into the bottom of the sea.

A rush of absolute silence engulfed him as rows and rows and rows of empty, crimson chairs hailed before him. The ceiling soared high above with a single, strong ripple in the middle. He felt tiny, like a single note in a whole symphonic piece, a blip amid an ocean. The nothingness, the sheer lack of any sound other than his breath, felt like a never-ending loom of a tsunami. Petrifying. Omnipotent.

Perfect.

Adrien wandered into the center of the stage, prickles of anticipation slithering up his spine. His palms were already clammy. _There's no one here but… it feels as though someone is watching me._ The blazing lights glared down at him like fifty suns.

The chairs were already set up for the first day of rehearsal later in the evening. Black folders were placed on every stand, including a thick bundle on the conductor's.

"A, Adrien, maybe you shouldn't," Plagg whispered as Adrien stepped in front of the conductor's stand.

"It should be fine as long as I put it back," he whispered back as he opened the folder.

"Oh… a seating chart." Adrien scanned for his name among the orchestral fan. He noted with relief that he had been placed to the very left of all the clarinets. "Good… I'm first chair."

Plagg huffed and looked away. "You still need to keep up with piano too Adrien. That was the promise."

"I know. But at least I know for sure that I can keep playing the clarinet." Adrien grinned. He flipped the folder back shut and stepped back.

"C'mon Plagg. We've still got some time; I'm going to go back to the practice rooms. I'm first clarinet, afterall."

o0o0o0o0o0o

"... and so that's why, I-I was wondering if there could be any way for me to still… stay at school. After this year."

Marinette fidgeted left and right as though the floor was on fire. She began chewing the insides of her cheeks furiously too.

"What did I tell you?" Ms. Mendeleiev glared at the girl. She began tapping her foot impatiently. "No is no, and why in God's name should I even believe that you will improve at all? Now, leav-"

"But Ms. Mendeleiev, I, uh, I can prove it to you!" Marinette slung down her backpack and frantically began shuffling through it.

"Enough of your antics, Ms. Dupain-Cheng! I am absolutely-!"

"Please! He-here ma'am, I made this!"

Marinette thrust forward a stack of sheet music. Ms. Mendeleiev glanced down at it, giving it a hard look, and then up at Marinette again. She hesitated, before snatching it. She began rummaging through it, muttering in a low voice.

Gulping, Marinette stared down at her shaking hands. _St-st-stop shaking, it'll be alright, I'm relatively confident about it, it, it'll be alright-_

Smack! Marinette flinched as Ms. Mendeleiev slapped down the papers. She gave it a disgusted look. "Absolutely lacking in style whatsoever. I am not surprised at your music theory grades when _this_ is what you composed for me."

 _No…_

"Now, will you please. Leave." Ms. Mendeleiev saw Marinette lower her bag once more and unzip it. "No. Truly. Just… leave. I don't want to waste our time." She shoved the papers towards Marinette and turned back to her computer.

 _No… nonono… I, is nothing ever good enough? I even gave her my best composition! And to be expelled because I couldn't attend classes…_ Marinette's vision became tunneled, and the spiraling darkness collapsed down on her further and further. _Why am I never good enough? At anything..._

"Ms. Mendeleiev, aren't you being a tad bit biased here?"

Marinette and Ms. Mendeleiev looked up. Ms. Mendeleiev's expression brightened, or at least became neutral as though the base had been poured into the acid.

"Ah, Alya. What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted an Italian dictionary for some of the opera homework. And anyway, Ms. Mendeleiev, this composition seems pretty good." Alya waved the stack of papers back and forth.

"Sure, some of the chords are a bit bland and all, but change some things here and there, add a couple instruments, and voila! It could be quite good, _quite_ good. And even though it's a bit confusing with more than one melodies… no one ever said it had to be the next Mozart piece.*"

Ms. Mendeleiev gave Alya a sharp look. "But no one asked for Schoenburg* either," she retorted. "The confusing jumble of just… _noises_ at measures thirty two, fifty six, and seventy are absurd! Those aren't music, they're simply sounds like the wind in the trees."

"But what is music?" Alya shot back. "Where do we distinguish between sounds and music? Like John Cage's "4'33"*... what is music? Isn't what we define as music just cultural associations from a young age?"

"Oh psha, "4'33" is a joke!" Ms. Mendeleiev began but Alya cut in. "We go off topic. The point is: you've barely taught us anything this complicated in the first week of school. Ms… uh…" Alya turned to Marinette.

"Dupain-Cheng," she squeaked.

Alya gave a wink before turning back. "Ms. Dupain-Cheng can most definitely make up any missed information, and I will make sure of it. In addition, she has the talent and skill of a modern musician so expelling her like this would be a waste to the Academy. I believe that you judged her too harshly."

Ms. Mendeleiev looked at the papers, at Alya, and finally at Marinette. She scrutinized the papers again before sighing. "Alright, I concede. Anything else after such a strong argument would be simply stubbornness on my part." She turned to Marinette with her steel blue eyes. "I will rescind your expulsion."

Marinette's eyes widened. _Is this real?_

Alya grinned. "Yep!" Marinette blushed. _Oh geez, I must've said that out loud. Could I be more embarrasing?_

"But."

Marinette felt her blood run cold as she turned to face Ms. Mendeleiev again. "...But?" Marinette repeated.

"You must win the Spring Concours. To prove your skills."

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this! I've explained some of the composers and stuff below. Hopefully I made it clear.

The Blue Miraculer: Thank you! I'm so glad that you like it! :D

"next Mozart piece": Mozart's a pretty famous composer from the Classical period of music. He made famous stuff like eine kleine nachtmusik (the most stereotypical Classical period piece ever) and also the nokia ringtone (but it wasn't called that back then). Anyway, so pieces from the Classical period tend to have a single, strong melody. That's why Alya was saying that Marinette's composition wasn't like Mozart's.

"Schoenburg": a famous modern composer. Just… try listening to any of his works. They're in something called serialism, and there's just a ton of… well, stuff happening.

"John Cage's '4'33'": I see it as a troll piece at times, but it's four minutes and thirty three seconds of silence. His other works are pretty interesting and new too.


End file.
